


Just Your Luck

by mssrj_335



Series: Will/Santi Bin [6]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Flip it, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Pre-Canon, Tenderness as only these two can do, action scene exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: “Pope! Look at me!”Santiago blinks, gasping for breath still. Will comes into focus, sweat streaming down his face, blue eyes frightened for the first time in a long time.
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller
Series: Will/Santi Bin [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124348
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	Just Your Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/gifts).



> basically thecarrot and i were talking about how these two would act if santiago was injured instead of will sooooo this is that

They round a corner, Pope’s on point. He sees the barrel a second after Will does.

A second too late.

A triple-shot rips the air, bullets rips his flesh, and even though he could break his teeth for the clench of his jaw, he shouts out.

Position’s given away.

He crumples, the sand around him erupts in gunfire.

Shit, it hurts. _Fuck,_ does it hurt. He scrambles for cover, dragging a leg behind him. Each jostles makes sand dig into the wound. Did it catch bone? A vein? Just above the knee, that’s all he knows Not sure, not sure, can’t think. There’s a berm, just feet away. Where’s Will? He must be firing back; Pope hears him somewhere. Is he shouting? Where are the others? Another two shots punch into his kevlar, knock the breath clean out of him. His arms shake for trying to hold himself up. Then suddenly he’s being dragged. Manhandled right out of the firefight to relative safety.

“Pope! Look at me!”

Santiago blinks, gasping for breath still. Will comes into focus, sweat streaming down his face, blue eyes frightened for the first time in a long time.

“Hey! Hey, where are you hit?” Rough callouses hands shake him back to sanity. “Santiago, talk to me.”

“Leg.” He finally finds his voice, grits out, “Just the leg. Vest caught the rest.”

Will’s already scrambling for a clot kit but relief washes over his face.

“Where’s the others?” Pope growls. “They ok?”

“Yeah, just your luck. Sweeping. Hold still.”

“Well, you wouldn’t like me if I had good luck, now would you?”

His joking seems to put Will at ease, his hands steady enough to slit Pope’s fatigues from knee to hip. Santiago grits his teeth, digs his fingers into Will’s arm as Ironhead pulls the fabric from the bloody mess, but doesn’t shout again. They’re barely under cover as it is. Can’t draw any more attention.

“You’re doin’ great, take a breath,” Will murmurs.

As soon as he does, Miller wraps the kit tight around his thigh. Santiago jerks, full body, but doesn’t make a sound.

“Good, good, you’re alright.” Will wraps him up, almost talking to himself instead of Pope. “You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna get you outta here.”

“Go finish,” Pope hisses. “Clean these fuckers up.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Will hisses back. “I’m not leavin’ you here. Gimme your arm.”

Pope should argue—he really should—but fuck, he doesn’t really want to stay either. Will hauls him to his feet, pain pushing the breath right out of him again. But together they hobble back into the building they came out of. The transport’s ages away, it’ll take forever to get there, Will’s already on the comm for a medic, but it’s all right. Despite all the hurt, Will’s got him. Gun at the ready, eyes as sharp and deadly as Santiago’s ever seen them. Maybe it’s the blood loss, maybe he can’t help himself, but he groans,

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

Will’s grip tightens and he hauls Pope a little closer. Under his breath, where no one else can hear, he grits out, “I’m the only one allowed to be.”


End file.
